i have seen her bathing
in a swell of mountain sweat
her curls singed by miles
the smell of oak on a fiery wind
and yet so soft does she remain
a sculptured form in cotton
a sugary whisp of air so gently stumbling
my eyes are widened with amazement
a dusting of cinnamon upon my coffee-stained lips
this powdered world from which i see
toes and eye lashes and all those wonderful things
a foot in leathered straps
over rocks and moss and oceans
big blue dreams are cascading
the streets are filled with stars
all of them are falling
wishing they were yours
but none have come to know you
the way you take your toast in the morning
on a chair inside my heart
and so there it is
on a perch so gently nestled
between my ribs and near my throat
a home that you have found
a smallness by the river
a distant trickling sound
but even should it grow silent
the colors still remain
those that paint the picture
of this vast, unbroken chain
-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 6/27/18
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